


kinda drifting into the abstract

by angelicwerewolf



Series: a hyena’s tale [1]
Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Character Death, Horror, Mutation, Sea Monsters, Smoking, Trauma, alcohol/smoking is only on slug's part, anyways here y'all go, bandit is just r a c c o on, eugene is a clydesdale draft horse, for reference on my ocs, i mean have you SEEN, i present to you a "snippet" a short story i'm working on, or this one at least, pls take care!, rhett is a satin rat, slug shows tellings of anxiety and depression, so ofc i had to make a story about sea horrors, the entire russell family are striped hyenas, this is when slug discovers he'll be one day away from decking tf out someone, venus is a english spot rabbit, we're able to reach?, weird eldritch stuff afoot, welcome to the furry world lads, what kinda bs marine life lives at the deepest part of the seas, with sea horrors and bullshittery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicwerewolf/pseuds/angelicwerewolf
Summary: In a world of anthropomorphic animals whose earth is mainly made of big and tiny islands with of mostly and widely unused harbors, docks, and general-everything dealing with sea travel as every body of water that isn't a bog, lake, river or pond is infested to the very bottom with highly volatile sea monsters. At one harbor of a superstitious, busy island known as Eastduff Reef, lies the very last sea captain that has evaded death time and time again. He's a peculiar hyena, born a resident of the island and now held a terrible secret and a traumatizing event of which he's told, but never fully elaborated, even to this day.He'd long sailed in his lonesome before Venus begged him to let him sail along, leading to Bandit, and all go on the treacherous journey to unlock the key to the mystery of their world.More than just that is afoot, though. Captain Slug still keeps that horrible secret to only himself and with not a cure, he's forever doomed to deal with his hidden, horrific predicament but, he'll be damned if he doesn't get to the bottom of everything -- but his crew members, that are now a family to him, come first. He'll keep them safe, even it means that he wouldn't find out the answers to his questions.
Series: a hyena’s tale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826512





	kinda drifting into the abstract

**Author's Note:**

> To keep it short; As mentioned in the ramblings of my tagging, this was supposed to be a short snippet of a scene in my story The Harbor Of Monsters. I'm still working on the world lore and a lot of the explanation behind these characters and events are spoilers, SO. What I can say is that, again: the entire ocean and the seas of this world of furries has been plagued by sea monsters since ancient times.
> 
> Despite the obvious danger, the determination, pride or recklessness got sailors, pirates, anyone who dared to trudge into saltwaters killed one by one which leads up all the way into the present; where Captain Slug and his little ragtag group are the only ones left in the entire world who sail to places, despite aeroplane travel being very much a thing. Also forgive me if there's any formatting error or awkward formatting in general, trying to do anything on a damaged-by-time chromebook equals death for me.
> 
> title are lyrics from the Nine Inch Nails song, "Only".

Some fifteen odd years ago, when the then-sailor was his father’s helper, the unimaginable yet predictable struck and for the worst, changed the now-captain’s life forever. The hyena was now in his mid-thirties, feeling old with his weary bones, irritated lungs from smoking, and a horrible memory and secret to hoot -- Just Captain Slug’s luck. He didn’t like to talk about it, nor clear, approve or disapprove of any rumors. Not even for the two crew members he’d grown close to, Bandit and Venus. It just wasn’t worth thinking back on that terrible, accursed day.

And yet, there he was; locked in the Captain Quarters; brooding the hours away with a cheap bottle of whiskey and a worrying amount of cigarettes. Bandit had to continue the small ship’s course to Bogland Islands in place of the hyena, who’d refused to eat, much less go out. No amount of concern could drag him out. This isolation and loneliness was dangerous for Slug’s brain, for with no warm voices and ridiculous jokes or shenanigans, his thoughts ran amok.  
  
The old, bad memories drowned out the good ones. The voice that told him to keep calm was choked out by horrific noises he wished he could forget. The smiles in his mind turned to frowns, happy eyes to wide, frightened ones. Awful, awful memories that blend in with unwanted murmurs in his drunken brain. Then that one memory, _the_ memory, the _worst_ of _all_ other ones worms it’s way in like a parasite. He’s too drunk, too dismal, to fight it off. He slumps to press his face firm against the cool and pine-scented wood of his desk in an attempt to soothe the intoxicated warmth off his skin under pale grey fur.  
  
He closes his eyes and quickly succumbs to the memory.

  
  


__________________________________________________

  
  
  


That fateful day mirrored the weather of the present. A persistent dense fog all around them like a snare closing in around their necks, so thick the day was haunted with a lack of sun but the most eerie thing that one cold afternoon, unlike the current day, was the still waters. In a deep, open ocean no less. The once delightful sound of salt water gently rocking against the hull of The Uroboros was beginning to sound more like the chime of bell tolls to warn them of a bad omen.

Slug could feel something nauseous stirring in the pit of his guts. Something that told him _something_ was amiss. Including Captain Rosso; his own father. He was sitting on a pull-up chair at the deck’s left; once attentive to the mechanics of the net’s reel, but now he was staring off with glossy eyes into the vast smoky-white like there was something there that he could see but Slug couldn’t. He looked melancholic almost and his harpoon gun laid untouched besides him, surely there was no danger afoot, right?  
  
_‘I’ve just worked up my nerves, that’s all.’_ Slug tells himself, hoping to convince the worries in his mind. _‘I’m just.. justifiably paranoid.’_ but no matter the number of times he repeated _everything’s okay, nothing’s wrong, we’re safe_ in his head, the unsettling feeling that something could happen at any moment refused to leave.  
  
He glanced out from the helm room and down to the familiar lanky figure of his father who was still unmoving, eyes also still seemingly remaining set on _nothing_ which prompts Slug to make a noise between a concerned whine and grumble and decides that he has to come to his dad with his concerns. He pushes himself off the chair and makes a quick dash down the stairs then out on deck, where he rounds from the right to the left side and as expected, Captain Rosso was still there with the same posture, look, and melancholic stare.

Slug would never be scared of his own parent, but at that precise moment he found himself warily approaching him, speaking in a low voice as if not to frighten him. “Dad? Are you feeling alright?”  
  
Then the silence falls on them once again.

It’s uncomfortable, but Slug gives it nearly a minute before he speaks up again as he’s now able to stand right by Rosso’s side without fear of his own safety. “What’s wrong, dad?” A clawed paw is set on Captain Rosso’s shoulder. The further lack of any acknowledgement on his dad’s part makes Slug take a firmer grip and shake him by the shoulder and raise his voice a little louder. “Dad!” His voice cracks. “What the hell's the matter with you? There’s nothing there, snap out of it! Please!”  
  
This seems to finally shake Captain Rosso out of his mistified stupor. The force of which he’s being tussled back and forth and the cries of his worried son pass through the barrier of the trance he didn’t know he was in, and finally getting a reaction out of his father, Slug weeps out a shaky sigh of relief.  
  
Captain Rosso seemed a bit lost at first, confused as to where he was and why his son was worried in the first place, but it’s not long until he remembers where they are and why they were there. Slug’s worries remained a mystery as he turned to face him; once misty eyes were replaced with a look of concern. 

  
Slug could see that his pops couldn’t puzzle things together as his face twisted into that of a frown of worry with a pair of lowered ears and brows tightly pursed together under the rim of his captain’s hat. “Slug! What’s wrong, sport?” Captain Rosso shifts and turns in the old tattered chair to push himself up and off of it and Slug reacts accordingly at this, by taking a step back to give him space. He then tries to get a word in, but the older hyena unintentionally interrupts him. “You’re crying-- Are you hurt?”  
  


_‘I’m crying?’_ Aware of his wet eyelashes now, Slug blinks a few times -- It was his turn to look confused. _‘I’m crying?’_ The hyena questions himself, bringing up a paw to the side of his face and gently swipes a claw under his eye, disturbing a tear that had pooled at the corners. He feels the rest of his face, mostly the fur on his cheeks, wet from the crying’s splotches. “I.. I guess I am.”  
  
“Something’s distressing you.” His head leans off to the one side, curious. “Do you wanna talk about it, son?”  
  
“I don’t know, dad.” His gaze shifts to where his Pops was previously staring off into. Of course, there’s nothing there but crisp, dark blue water and the suffocating fog. “Something’s bugging me and I’m worried about you.”  
  
Captain Rosso’s shoulders relax, his ears following suit, and a smile spreading across his face. “Oh, Slug. I’m okay, but you can’t spend your time worrying about me.”  
  
“You always worry about me, though.” and Snail. He didn’t want to speak of his brother’s name right now, in case it had a despairing reaction but not even Slug knows if his brother’s dead or alive after all this time. He’s overheard his father’s worries when he thinks nobody’s around-- when he thinks he’s alone in the helm room he vents to the air but, he’s getting sidetracked, “So why can’t I worry about my only parent?”

  
“Slug. First of all, I appreciate that you look out for me as well, but you’re my kid and you shouldn’t burden yourself with _my_ silly worries, sport.”  
  
“But, dad--”

“ _Nah-ah-ah._ You heard me.” Rosso lifts up his captain’s hat by the rim then takes a hold of it, taking it off to dust it clean. “Now, please, Slug. What’s that thing bugging you, that isn’t just your old pop?”  
  
In disbelief, Slug scoffs. _“‘Silly worries’.”_ He mumbles under his breath, though he isn’t _actually_ mad. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. “Sorry.” As he apologizes in a low voice, of which his dad just shakes his head to reassure him, he continues. “Do you ever get this feeling that something bad’s about to happen, dad? You try to chalk it up to nerves, especially in a world like ours, but the sensation just won’t go away? And every little noise, movement, _or lack of thereof,_ makes you paranoid?” He’s been watching what little they could see of the waters before him, but from the corner of his eyes he could also see his poor dad growing increasingly worried, or afraid, he couldn’t quite tell. Slug reluctantly pries his eyes off the wretched ocean to face him. “How suddenly everything seems out of place? I’ve been feeling like something’s gonna happen for the past hour.”

This revelation makes the other grow quiet, if even for a tiny bit. It seems like Captain Rosso has to carefully choose his next choice of words as his snout scrunches just a little and his lips purse in thought. “This will be a common occurrence in life, Slug. Even if you don’t continue sailing about. Right now, you and I are two of the small handful of the crazy enough fools to venture into _any_ body of water that isn’t a river or a lake around the _entire_ world, so I don’t blame you for being on high alert.” His grim look turns into a comforting smile then, the kind of smile your parents give you when they tell you that you’re gonna be okay. Slug, although anxious, smiles back at the comfort his father’s offered. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t feel like anything bad’s gonna happen.”  
  


__________

  
_Looking back, those words stick out like a burn in the back of Captain Slug’s head. His father’s words were a lie. A complete and utter dirty lie, meant to make him feel better. It was the worst, haunting string of words he’d ever hear._

_  
_ __________

  
  


“Let’s sail back home now, shall we, so you can properly rest off this anxiety on dry land?”  
  
“I’d like that actually, but,” He spares a glance to an open cooler. It almost looked pathetically empty, even if the three fish stashed in the container were relatively hefty. “We haven’t caught much fish today.”  
  
“There will be another day and it’s quite late, isn’t it? Better make the hours-long trip back home if we wanna get there before nightfall.” The taller hyena chuckles slightly as he bends down just a bit, grabbing the harpoon gun that had sat besides Slug. Then, Captain Rosso perks up. “Oh! Also,” He swings the harpoon’s strap around his shoulder and with his free paw, he drops his treasured hat on top of his son’s head.  
  
“I want you to have this, Slug.”  
  
His dad looked odd without his hat-- come to think of it, Slug barely ever saw him without his hat. A lucky charm perhaps, which only reinforces the young sailor’s next words;

  
“Oh,” Another frown is shown on this day. Slug’s paw comes to a resting point atop his own head, feeling the hat laid out up there. “That’s really nice of you, pa, but I couldn’t. This hat’s one of a kind and quite special to you. It is _your_ hat. I can buy one for myself later.”  
  
It’s in vain really, thinking he could return it, but alas his dad stops him and begins vocalizing his insistence faster than Slug can protest. “No, no, that won’t do. You know your father, Slug. Would I have really given you my hat if I didn’t want you to keep it?”  
  
“I-- Well--” At loss for words, Slug drops his shoulders and arm, sighing. “I guess not.”  
  


Captain Rosso smiles once more, recognizing his small but important victory. “I’m aware you don’t see it as such, but some would think this hat’s just technically a hand-me-down. Understandably so, had it since I was a teen, but in truth, I’ve considered it a family heirloom for quite some time now,”  
  
Slug paid close attention to what his dad had to tell him, trying to keep focus at least, and process the information, keep it in his memories-- but something about the sudden saddened tone of the conversation from his dad’s side made something itch at the back of Slug’s mind. The bad feeling of before was trying to get through, but Slug tried to push it down and brush it off as something intrusive trying to ruin his pacified mood.

His father started walking, his son’s internal struggle going unnoticed even if it was obvious _for_ Slug himself that, here and there, he missed some parts of what he had to say after the family heirloom part. After he’s facing the back of his dad’s head, Slug shakes his head, pops up the brim of his new captain’s hat and follows him, rounding all the way back to the right side. They both stop right at the entryway to the stairs leading back to the helm room.  
  
“It may come as a surprise to you, but I think of it as a form of a lucky hat. You don’t have to always wear it. Just be close to its vicinity and its lucky charm will work like, well, a charm.” Captain Rosso chuckles, in that old, but genuine, hyena laugh. “At least that’s how I see it. Consider it as you will, and as always, you do what you think is best, son.”  
  


It’s again, Slug’s turn to smile. “Thank you, dad.”  
  
“No problemo, kid. Now--”

Captain Rosso’s interrupted with quite a scare, a scare that hurt both his and his son’s ears. Like the echoing noise of a large oak tree falling in the woods, the boat’s try-net creaked for an unknown reason, however it didn’t take either of them too long to realize what was happening.  
  
As the boat began to tilt into one side which promptly sent their bodies flying rather painfully against the walls of the staircase and helm room, it quickly dawned on them that something way bigger than old, slithery fishes, had gotten caught in the net and was now trying to wriggle itself free. The water splashed loudly as the boat was rocked back and forth, the two hyenas hanging on for their dear lives. The freezing waters were bad enough, but the pest-like amount of literal water horrors wasn’t a comforting thought and neither of them was too pleased about the idea of meeting whatever was underneath the surface, of whose underwater roars rumbled softly through the surface.

The vessel’s only try-net finally gives out with one more insufferable screech. It snaps clean off, destroyed parts of mechanism bounce all around like they’re inside a pinball machine; and finally; the boat pitifully comes crashing back into its original position, now that the monster flailed free from the netting. They slumped back down to the floor.  
  
What just happened besides the obvious, whether it will come back to check what disturbed it’s swim, Captain Rosso and Slug have no clue. What the Captain _does_ know is that such a ruckus would be heard for miles and attract unwanted attention and that they need to get out of there _now._ _  
_ _  
_ With both their feet back on steady floorboards, both hyenas had to take a quick moment to breath air and collect themselves to wash off the shock of what felt like crushed lungs wounded from the impact. It wasn’t such a big deal probably, nothing feels fractured but being caught off guard like that? It made everything worse, more than it already was.

Slug emits a short, gasping breath, and not before long he comes to realize his right ear is painful to move. The very sting of cold ocean air made him flinch, a heavy contrast against the warmth running down his head -- and quite literal, too. His dad’s first to notice _what_ it is.  
  
“Oh no, nonono,” Slug notices he’s whispering. It’s not to be mistaken for a lack of concern, but caution for what else could hear him. “Slug, I’m so sorry--” He feels a paw cup the side of his face that’s bleeding. It hurts but not too much, like pain that’s still settling after you’ve taken a stumble down a concrete road and don’t quite yet know or feel what part of skin you just scrapped off on the harsh surfaces -- Slug can’t quite tell where he’s bleeding from just like that, but judging by his dad’s widened eyes; It’s his ear that’s bleeding. “D- Dad?”  
  
“Shh, shh.” He shushes soothingly, not at all ill-mannered. Slug wanted to cry as he felt the pain inside his head begin to pool. He felt a nasty migraine coming in, all while his dad had to make sure only a chunk of Slug’s ear was blown off. There’s a hefty stream of blood-- one of the arteries must’ve been severed, Captain Rosso figures, and while it’s unlikely to _bleed out_ from a blown-off-chunk-of-ear, given how small the arteries were there, the captain wasn’t taking any chances.

He wasn’t about to lose his one remaining family member. Never with a doubt in his mind did he always believe, _‘Better me than my children’,_ and he would stand by until the day he died. Perhaps at this very moment he was overreacting, but this is his _kid_ in a _monster-infested world_ who was in hellish pain because of a dammed, wild water beast.  
  
“You’re okay. Don’t cry, Slug.” As parents often do, he begins to panic, but keeps it under qualms disguised behind the comforting words that any parental figure would offer to just about anyone. “We- We need to go, quickly, before anything else happens.” Captain Rosso seems to speak so quickly in Slug’s otherwise slugged brain, but he _very_ carefully nods. “Remember what I told you before, in case of an emergency like this: Keep your head low, don’t talk too loud and don’t make too much noise, and _don’t_ peek out from the edge of the boat even if you think the coast is clear.”

Captain Rosso makes haste, but mindful to keep quiet, as he starts to lead Slug back to somewhat-safety inside the boat itself. It wasn’t much, if any, protection at all but at least they could hide.

  
___________

  
_If only._ _  
_ _  
_ _Just maybe, Present Captain Slug likes to think that, just maybe in an alternate universe that’s what happened, but that supposed alternate universe was not real and he was stuck in the one and only planet plagued with horrors._ _  
_ _  
_ _____________

 _  
_ _  
_ Before either of them could make it to safety, something rumbled again. Similar to the muffled underwater roars of the monster from earlier, but now the water started to bubble all around them -- like a feral snake that coils itself around the neck of a feral alligator, this thing clearly fancied the same tactic. The two on the boat had no choice but to freeze dead in their tracks, hoping the absence of any sound from the vessel would disinterest it from further investigation.  
  
It did not work.

The elongated snout of a large and sleek monster busted through the surface of the ocean water, a crest of two shimmery but jagged fins on each side of its head served as a non-effective shield and fan, but it did hide the rest of its face while it scanned the foggy horizon -- said fog around them sort of dismissed further back as if on command on the creature's behalf, who growled low in its throat with bared teeth and flared gills. The thing was the most pale of whites, like an albino out of its kind but it did not seem to be an albino -- rather just one of a kind. 

Slug noticed it’s serpentine neck was long; very, _very_ long to the point it almost looked like it could twist and turn and contort without so much of a problem. The next thing he noticed was that it, in fact, was surrounding the boat so it had quite literally tried to ensnare them, indeed like a feral snake.  
  
The little voice in his head began to scream about the danger it picked on earlier, from that uncomfortable and almost vomit-inducing swirling pit of a bad feeling in his stomach, and he began to yell. Internally. At himself for not insisting to get out of there much sooner.  
  
His wreck of a train of thought came to a sudden halt when a soft voice piped besides him. “By the Heavens, no..” His dad’s tone almost seemed to waver, but recovered. “Not her.”  
  
The young sailor comes to realize that he’s got not even the faintest idea of what this monster is. There’s a book his father gave him long ago, cataloguing all the sea monsters that had been discovered; hostile or passive, big or small, evidently existing or sailor myths. This one was not depicted in any form as far as he could remember, but perhaps she wasn’t ever drawn into the books; much less pictured.  
  
“H- Her?” Slug urged him in a dizzy spell, but he needed answers. “What is she?”  
  
“The Pale Beast.” And as if on cue, she turns and finally takes proper notice of The Uroboros and the two poor souls on them -- even though the bottom fins of her head kept her forbidden eyes hidden, _she knew._ _  
_ _  
_ The Captain began to panic once more. “Listen, Slug!” Abandoning all tactics and advice to avoid further monstrous attention, his dad’s voice was loud and clear, his paw still shielding the view from his wounded side. “Whatever you do, and I mean _whatever,_ don’t look her in the eyes. Please. You’ve read about her in the books-- her eyes, It’s a terrible affliction, a curse, you might as well be considered a bad omen yourself, the damned.”  
  
Abruptly when he stood up, Captain Rosso was quick on his thinking as he sidestepped in front of Slug to prevent The Pale Beast from choosing him as her next target -- and thankfully the harpoon gun hadn’t fallen victim to the waters and he was still clinging to it. Even if he was hesitant, he looked at the beast head on despite his own warnings, and held the harpoon in his hands at the ready to fire. It’s then that Slug finally digs enough around in his brain for this precise monster that has never been portrayed in other forms other than words, often warnings, and superstitions, myths, and theories.  
  
The Pale Beast was a fickle, unpredictable creature. She reigned on her reputation as one of the most dangerous monsters out there in the whole world and wore it with all her prideful majesty in the now-seen form of the full-of-teeth, serpent-looking plesiosaur glory. The Pale Beast would contradict herself sometimes though, as the books said, for despite the aggressive nature of her instincts, she’s been known to mind her business and keep her distance, according to old and more recent tales.

_Of the only five sailors in the whole world, at least. The older ones were dead._ Aside from the obvious guess that any animal would react negatively if it feels threatened, no soul knew what made The Pale Beast tick.

If there was one whole individual who _did_ know all of it, well, rest may they because they for sure weren’t here anymore. Just like the hyenas in this current predicament were sure to soon find themselves in the belly of a beast, as the elephant in the room finally came inches within the boat and the captain and his cowering son.

“Don’t.” Was the only words Captain Russo could manage. If this one word was meant to be directed towards the beast herself, or his dad was telling him to refrain from moving -- he couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because the thing of nightmares was just a _damn feet away_ from his father’s harpoon gun.  
  


Her snout was within arm’s reach and his dad was within the blast zone. Slug’s not sure for how long all three of them just stood there. Through the pain of his headache and ear injury, even Slug could see his father was shaking; his hands seemed unsteady on the gun itself.  
  


It’s not until she snarled and showed her teeth, recoiling back as to go for the attack, that his dad’s ears perked up and the visible fur on his neck stood up on end. That was enough to act on the defense and so, he pulled the trigger, but.. the end results were surely interesting to say the least.  
  
The beast was still at point blank range. The harpoon should’ve embedded itself right through her skull, she wouldn’t have gotten enough time to dodge a close range shot, much less while she was semi-blinded by the bottom fins still on her eyes. Yet, It seemed as if Captain Rosso slumped to the side, lost his footing, or the grip of fear was far greater than the grip of his harpooning skills -- because the harpoon only graced the side of The Pale Beast’s face, leaving a straight red line on her cheek that quickly began to ooze blood, as the harpoon itself flies off into the ocean.  
  
Now fully recoiling all the way back, head high above the boat, she didn’t seem to react to the pain but instead to the anger that burned inside of her at the _audacity_ she was attacked. She opens her jaw, far too much, where top and bottom rows of needle-like, pointed and jagged sharp teeth of all length and sizes protruded from. From snarls, muffled rumbles and low growls, she opted for a noise sure to make their ears bleed -- she let out a loud, screech-like roar, like metal on metal that groaned in absolute, agonizing anger.

The bottom fins that covered her face abandon the protection of her eyes to flare alongside the top ones.

If Slug wasn’t terrified before, he sure is now. Throughout it all, Slug’s been unable to see her face but from the contraction of neck muscles, he could see The Pale Beast turned to face them in with her Medusa-like glare -- that kicked an immediate response from his dad, who turned his face away so fast it looked painful, then turned his body all the way around to face Slug.

His father’s eyes were almost a fully-unreadable expression. The fear and sadness was there, especially when he heard the beast start to charge and announce another battle cry against the poor dogs on the boat. _“GO!”_ Captain Rosso yells, taking Slug by the arm before he even got the chance to decide otherwise for himself -- and although it pains him to do, Captain Rosso has to basically hurl his son -- skid him across -- the boat’s floor to to get him out of the jaw range of the beast and her bite.  
  
The floorboards were wet from the boat nearly capsizing earlier, so he didn’t stop sliding until his back uncomfortably wedged itself between the boat’s very inner tip of its nose, the bow. He didn’t hit hard, but it was still painful for someone who’d just been tossed roughly like a rag doll against the helm’s walls in the first place, and then was hit by some loose part from the try-net’s arm. Slug grimaced, but pushed back down the wail of hurt when he looked up to see The Pale Beast was _unhinging_ her jaw and was right above his father, who looked like a helpless little puppy lost in the rain. The beast herself was too busy with Captain Rosso to really notice Slug’s presence wasn’t behind the taller hyena anymore. Slug felt the familiar sting and warmth in his eyes almost immediately at the sight. _“N- No!_ Dad-- _MOVE--”_

The very last image he ever saw of his father alive. Mournful. He looked as if his thoughts of failure overpowered the very fear of his sealed fate, with still-wide eyes as he stared at his otherwise helpless, injured son. He mouthed _‘I’m sorry’,_ before big and sharp jaws snatched him up along with a good chunk of The Uruboros’s outer wall and edge and was crunched, along with his body, now in two.  
  
It was a quick death. At least Slug likes to think it was a quick-- There wasn’t a scream, not even a muffled one cut short. Just the crack of bones and the squishing of flesh, and the horrendous sight of his father’s lifeless body _running_ with blood and coating The Uroboros, the water, _the damned beast_ before he disappeared down her throat.

Slug’s skin under his fur had surely drained of all color just like his blood had run ice cold. There was a tight knot in his throat and a sensation in his stomach that he’d puke at any second, and the sting in his eyes only became worse when tears began to run freely and sponge up away in said fur. He was at a loss for words -- what _could_ he say, when you see your family be eaten alive right in front of you? He couldn’t even scream. He could yell and scream and cry all he wanted, but that wouldn’t bring back his father. It certainly did not bring his presumed-dead brother back when he was younger, so another meltdown would not help him right this very moment.

His shocked, petrified silence did not help him hide from her. After the beast finished her meal, with a chunky thread of the deceased captain’s tail severed and stuck in her needle teeth, -- she took notice of the other potential piece of food, but a second thought seemed to cross her mind. She hissed, low and steady, with big eyes that stared right into Slug’s own. It felt like those stark, crimson eyes stared right through him and into his soul instead -- where his deepest secrets, struggles, fears and thoughts laid hidden away from everyone, even himself, became unwinded like the swirling black lines in the eyes of The Pale Beast and hit him full force.

But it wasn’t just the internal dilemmas of a scared, now lost, hyena -- no, no, no, if only.  
  
Now The Mother Beast had afflicted him with a sailor’s worst nightmare, -- like a hivemind, she was inside his head and plagued every thought. Before his eyes, with the monster in the background at all times, he saw awful things and heard every little noise that came with it. 

The worst of it all, with whatever mind-twisting thing she was doing to his conscious and everything that’s reality around him, was another feeling that something was off. That something stirred once more in him, but through his entire body and it _hurt._ Something became _very, very wrong_ in him, _with_ him.  
  
He was cursed, without a doubt. He failed to save the life of his father, now he failed to have heed his warning.

The deed was done now though, there was no turning back no matter how desperately he wanted to wind the arms of the clock backwards. And there was no form of cure for a beast’s curse and The Pale Beast knows this as she starts to slink away from the boat, then stops, the disturbed water around her splashing against pale scales.

Slug was cowering again, firmly pressed into the nook of the bow. His head throbbed with a migraine now with a heart rate off the charts, he’s surprised he hasn’t died from a heart attack already -- but between labored breaths and all concerns of his health, his father’s traumatizing demise, and the momentary dismissal of a serpentine beast, he hears a somewhat pitiful whine. It sounded like the short note of an unrecognizable song -- It was her. The beast.  
  
When he _dares_ to look from the edge of the boat to the thing that already ruined his life a thousand ways to infinity, she w leaning her head forward to get a better look at Slug. This angers him.  
  
“What in the the seven realms of these fucking _hellish seas_ do you want now?! Another meal, you wretched thing?” Snapped Slug, growling at something he very much could not hope to win against. The hyena claws at the edges, using them as support to weakly force himself past the dizziness and vertigo and stand up, throwing up just a little bit in his mouth. “Either fuck off to into the depths of the ocean or kill me already!” Between the tears he was holding back again and the grieving yelling, It wasn’t helping the pain in his body, less the one in his head, but at that moment he could give less of a damn if he was dead or alive. His ears were now flat against his head, fur all around him on end in anger rather than fear.

On the other hand, the beast paid no mind to such a small creature’s hapless screams. She did shake her head, but not in response to his words but rather something that flickered in her eyes while investigating. She was more focused on the peculiar furry inhabitant of the world she lives in, but for another moment, her eyes fell back on the missing chunk of the boat’s edge and the pool of blood where another hyena used to stand. A white captain’s hat laid completely unharmed and pristine nearby -- her face and eyes move back to the enraged, last breathing thing on the vessel and just as quickly as she’d snatched Captain Rosso up, the crest of fins drooped and out another song-like noise she emitted.

All said anger in Slug melted away to confusion. He knows she’s a fickle monster, but this was an unusual surprise he didn’t know how to feel about. The body language of her fins and the soft breathing, accompanied with the almost sad noise she made, well, said she was.. sad.

It was hard to believe. Slug thinks it was but a show. A dirty trick to further torture her victims as do other tricky sea monsters -- Maybe she felt regret, but sadness was out of the question in his mind for a time. There was no point in trying to decipher an already-mysterious-animal’s equally mysterious emotions, behavior, _anything --_ when she either curses you with her eyes or devours you without so much a moment’s consideration.  
  
While Slug’s in the middle of another internal rambling, but more aware of what he's seeing and hearing around him, his internal talks are quickly interrupted when his eyes come back into focus of the thing in front of him and sees her suddenly throw her head back -- Not a second passes before The Pale Beast wails the loudest and most tortured, grief-stricken shriek Slug has ever heard _anything_ in this world make.  
  
The best way he could ever hope to describe an more mythical-ish documented monster’s noise was as if a Humpback Whale’s beautiful song was turned into a blood curdling screech by a flock of dying Sirens; full of fright, pain, regret. Such agonizing wail from a monster that was seemingly in some sort of pain made his very bones ache -- and she kept outright _crying_ as she covered her eyes once again, as if shamed, and dove her head underwater to escape the very tragic scene she’d created.  
  
Even under the water, like the roars before her haunting cries, Slug was able to hear it. Her head and neck were long gone before her body followed suit where a combination of bulky legs and paddle fins lazily rose up from the water and back down.  
  
The last he saw of the beast was her tail that day.  
  
Slug was left alone then, more or less stranded in the middle of the ocean, but not in the common meaning of _stranded._ The hyena wasn’t _lost_ \-- The hull of The Uroboros wasn’t damaged, otherwise the boat would have sunk by now, so it was safe to assume that the stack of spare fuel containers was intact, as well. He knew how to steer just about any waterborne vessel, he knew how to navigate through these treacherous waters and whether coordinates in numbers and compasses or the path of the sun and the moon -- he’s been taught, he knew how to sail back home, but that was the problem.

_Home._

The Harbor of Eastduff Reef -- That’s where he’s lived his entire life. How could he go back there? Now that he’s cursed by a beast and has a pretty good idea of what his hands, in control of a sadistic puppeteer now swimming around in his head, that would control his otherwise unwilling actions was capable of doing. He’d be thrown out to sea with no food or water by the residents, let either monsters or desperate starving animals eat away at him, or be avoided at all cost and maybe eventually killed by the very people he once knew.

Slug couldn't go back. He can’t and doesn’t want to -- for now. He knows he’s now himself an unstable and fickle individual due to the beast’s eyes. It was better to drop from the face of the earth he decided, than to sully his family’s name. At the very least he could carry on The Russell’s family legacy in name, but not in job or friendliness or with his presence the people back at the harbor know.

_‘No one can ever find out what attacked today, what happened exactly.’_ Slug thinks to himself, limping to where his father’s hat continued to sit. _‘No one can ever know of my curse.’_ Not a speckle of blood, not a smudge of dirt. Just wet with seawater he finds out, when he picks it up. _‘I’ll take this secret to my grave.’_ With a pained glance to the only remnant of a family member, he pops the hat on and continues up to the helm room to start the boat.

As he begins to sail away to who-knows-where, his final thought on the matter was _‘Do not get attached to those around you, for their safety. For their sake, do not let your guard down.’_ If someone were to tell him way earlier that he’d end up doing the exact opposite of what Slug told himself to do, he would’ve laughed at what he thought was a jest.

_______

For the next five years, Slug had lived in a small and deserted island with only local wildlife and fauna to keep him company. He’d beached the boat upon arrival and even tied it to a tree, making sure it wasn’t dragged out to sea, even chucked the anchor out to keep it steady on the loose sand. He had to fix the boat to look forward to, at least -- but lo and behold, his skills did not lay in this form of that type of boat maintenance, but it’ll make do for the time being until Slug could get it properly repaired, if he ever set foot back home anyways.

In terms of survival -- at first, his food supply was that of what he and his deceased father had packed back in The Harbor Island of Eastduff Reef, but when that food ran out, he resorted to surviving off what he could find on the island. Mostly fish, but there were also feral hogs, lizards, birds, crabs. He got very sick of it after a while, but the wild fruits and vegetables at least made it bearable.  
  
_For a while_. Because he got sick of that as well, perhaps due to the lack of seasoning, but in a time like this he refused to be picky, so he sucked it up.

His _‘remote island life’_ struggles could not hope to best the worst of it all. The vivid nightmares of _that_ day or the hallucinations of the beast in the water and his father’s mauled corpse appearing from the shrubbery of the island’s jungle, telling him what a disappointment he was or the very real mutations his body went through. The horrible thing cursed him to be a literal monster, to be able to turn into one to be more specific. His body opened down the middle, four ways across his face, many eyes -- writhing, oozing tentacles on his back -- multiplied tongues sprouting like parasitic mushrooms, more mouths -- so many monstrous things. Sometimes, these mutations included the occasional loss of memory, or the torture of being aware while he cruelly mauled some poor feral hog instead of humanely hunting it for food, and wanting to so badly stop it or the painful feel that something in his body, his muscles, his _bones_ often stretched like a cut being reopened.  
  
There was no rhyme or reason for whenever it happened, It just did but three years later, he coped -- one way or another, he coped, and as two more years went by the more he felt himself change to an isolated, distant man, who showed close to no facial or verbal emotions and kept to himself but at least, he learned how to keep his new monstrous dilemma under control; not entirely, but now he knew how to deal with that, too.

The hyena thought he was ready to head back home but stalled for reasons unknown to himself, it was gonna be almost six years since people back home last saw the remaining members of The Russells and had quite probably, and understandably, presumed them dead -- thinking the ocean or monsters claimed _both_ of the sailors.  
  
Just a month shy of six years after the tragic experience; Slug popped back seemingly out of nowhere after he’d finally taken sail back to his home that now felt like a shell of it’s former place, like the stranger he sees in the mirror and feels in his chest every day. When the people of the harbor saw the, now twenty-five by that point hyena, they were almost wary of who they now considered a stranger; but, only for a short while. He’d been taken to the hospital, properly treated and nursed back to the regular health status a hyena should be in -- but the moment he'd stepped foot back here, _everything_ happened so _fast._

It was quite the scandal, front page news -- whatever they’d call it -- that only ended up bringing unwanted fame, attention, whatever the others called it. When he was finally cleared from being hospitalized, he was tossed into the spotlight he didn’t ask to be in, being asked left and right where he was, how he had survived for so long, what happened. The straw that absolutely shattered the camel’s back was when it came to the relentless questions about what happened to his father, even when he clearly stated that he wasn't in a state of mind to go into the traumatizing and bloody details of his death, and the reminders of what had presumably happened to rest of his family. How he cried when he was cub, confused at his stranger of a mother's absence, -- who's been presumed dead for years -- even though he no longer remembers her or why he cried so much when he was so little. Then the more recent absence of his older brother, who left Eastduff Reef and was never heard or seen after some time after leaving. Again, he was _also_ presumed to have deceased. All these questions, reminder after reminder, of things he wished not to think about otherwise he'd dwell on for too long again, came flooding back, but this time it wasn't building sorrow. It was making him angrier and angrier, to be poked at like this.

It wasn’t his proudest moment, the lie and his temperament having shrunk so short, far from it; he already explained the story where some events had changed, but the truth was behind the lie for his safety. The ill-temperament though, was very clear.

_‘He fell overboard, but not because he was clumsy that day,’_ Slug told people, hoping the soul of his father would forgive him for it. _‘When a sub-adult kraken jumped out of the sea, latching it’s tentacles around my dad before I could do anything. Took good chunks out of the boat, trying to get to my dad. I don’t think it noticed me but the flying debris of mechanics scarred my ear, I couldn't tell what was happening after that.’_ That’s all he wrote -- but like the chords of a guitar, he snapped in that very forced interview, after a persistent reporter insisted on every little detail and caused him to go into a short, blind fit of rage. Slug only realized he decked the poor reporter in the nose when he was pulled away from him and saw how the guy now sported an extra hole in his nose from which to breath through.

He met up with the reporter off-duty the following day and all was forgiven. It was clearly hard for the hyena to get back into a normal, everyday life schedule so people let him be after that. When the poor thing _finally_ got time to breath, Slug felt comfortable enough to do what he wanted to do. After isolating himself in his old family home for a few days, that is.

Nevertheless -- The Uroboros was properly repaired and remodeled to be a sailing ship, a fresh coat of paint for both the name cursive, previously faded words _‘The Uroboros’_ and the rest of the boat’s outer and inner walls, hulls, steering wheel; pretty much anything. He dropped the family job of selling fish to canneries, only occasionally selling to local market owners and picked up where he left his studies of terrestrial and marine biology (which included the sea monsters). His interest laid mostly in the last of the two.

Like nothing particularly ever happened to the earth itself, it kept spinning for its and the life on it’s sakes. The grind would never stop for as long as the planet’s clock continued to tick -- The sun shone for a brand new day and the moon glowed for a brand new night. Just like always, every day, month, year, presented new opportunities, activities, change -- even if someone died, even with horrors under the water, even when some days it was hard getting out of bed for him. It just went on and on _and_ _on._

For some time; Slug considered existence to be futile but continued on. Like life itself, even if it felt like he was dead inside. _‘It's just how life went, didn’t it?’_

  
  


__________

_That’s where his flashbacks would usually end and he’d awake in a frightful fit that almost always left him throwing up into the nearest trash can, but today it went a bit further -- to a happier memory._

_  
_ ___________ 

  
  


Some time had passed, seven years to be precise, and Captain Slug was still living where he was born. He’d long since graduated, mourned, and quite daredevil-ish still took on to sailing the seas despite everything. The poor thing had also picked up the nasty habit of smoking, but he supposed that was better than alcohol of which he consumed from time to time -- but didn’t get shitfaced drunk, _mind you._ He knew better than to indulge in heavy or constant alcohol. _Shame he couldn’t do the same for smoking, though._ Behind that _I have no soul, have a nice day,_ blank stare that made him look like a big total grumpy jerk who constantly glared -- he was actually considerate enough to not smoke around people who did not wish to inhale the smell of smoke burning the hyena’s lungs.

He also was a kind soul, no matter how crabby he actually is, and just wasn’t the easiest to approach and get to know to become his buddy. He was always so lonely, never wanted to be around any living soul for too long even when his story of survival brought him attention, and as the years went by since those days since the tragedy and return, he was the only proper sailor to travel and explore by sea. The five other fools (six in total, counting by a batch of sailors and captains back then), as his father called them in a well-meaning manner, had died of old age or perished at sea.

Either Captain Slug was reckless to continue sailing or he didn’t give a shit.

_‘It’s the second reason.’_ He had told the bar-goers who quickly wormed their way inside The Fox’s Tavern after his annoyed-but-not-actually-annoyed tone. _Of course the moment he’s come back from some days-long sailing, the residents have questions._

While he’d excused himself from said bar to enjoy his now half-smoked cigarette outside, he was also delighted in watching the wonderful peach and orange colors of the sunset. It never got old, watching the beauty of the big blue that so often changed in scheme like a chameleon -- even if he denied his joy, the soft thumps of his tail gave him away even with his navy blue captain’s coat.

The hyena was interrupted again though and his tail stopped wagging. He wasn’t annoyed yet, but he sure as hell was confused when this short rabbit came up to him with a bag that was clearly _luggage_ and began talking so fast, it looked like he was in a rush. Slug put out his cigarette, too puzzled to just brush the rabbit off who seemed to be vibrating off the damn charts. He was clearly excited, nearly jumping with joy if he wasn’t preoccupied with being awe-struck as if he’d just met a famous _celebrity._ As Slug tried get some words in, the other kept yapping about how he can’t believe he met _The_ Captain Slug. It wasn’t irritating, just utterly _bewildering._

He was almost trying to reach across the board to reach every word in the dictionary for _confusion_ just to put across and express how lost he was. Slug also couldn’t tell if this kid even took one breath through his entire verbal paragraph -- how he was his hero for whatever reason, how he looked up to him, how he even wanted to become a captain just like him. Slug wouldn’t say he’s the best role model, but this sort of reminded him when he was a kid himself, honestly. The stranger stopped for a quick second, _finally_ taking note of the hyena’s look of utter _what._

Slug jumped in before he could continue and possibly suffocate if he didn’t _breath._  
  
“Okay, okay! Just take it easy, will you? Breath, sport, _breath._ ” He pops at the brim of his hat, lifting his head to squint at him, then. “I don’t know why people look up to me, but I’m far from being a good role model. Why are you even here? Where are your parents? Are you lost?”  
  
“I’m not a lost kid! I’m twenty-one, my parents know me and my older siblings frequent out when we’re not babysitting the little ones.” The rabbit smiles a big, toothy smile. “And I came out here to meet you, Cap-- Oh! I didn’t even introduce myself-- I’m Venus! The third out of seven siblings and an aspiring sailor!”

“That’s great.” Captain Slug looks rather mortified but he shrugs and brushes it off, not really sure how to respond to that in the first place. “Okay, Venus. You met me, It’s me, Slug--”  
  
“ _Captain_ Slug!”  
  
_“--I know my own title, son.”_ Grumbled the Captain. “Now, uh, run along. Back to whatever you were doing before you yoinked yourself up here in the harbor.”

Venus’s perked ears drop instantly and previously where there was a smile, a frown occupied it with a pair of big old disappointed eyes. Oh, dear. He made him sad. “I’ll bite. What do you want, an autograph?”

The big fluffy ears jumped right up. Well, he recovers quickly. “Nope! I want to sail with you.”  
  
_“What?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Why’s everybody get the same reaction when I tell them what I want to do with my life?” Apparently it was a common occurrence for Venus, as if that wasn’t obvious enough. Captain Slug’s scarred, and pierced, ear twitches as Venus giggles.  
  
“Anyways!” Venus picks up again, and _oh no. The lad’s being serious._ “You’re the greatest sailor! The _best_ captain that has the unwavering courage of diamonds!”  
  
“I get it, I get it.” Captain Slug doesn’t really care for praise but the compliment that he’s now courageous is kind of nice -- Too bad It’s just that he’s incredibly dulled out, just a tired and jaded hyena. “Please, do continue. I guess.”  
  


“SO-- I’ve looked up to you since I was a bunny! I think that’s quite a high compliment, no? There were four more sailors out there, after all, and you came out on top out of the other unknown sailors.”  
  


Enthusiasm. Captain Slug admires that, but this aspiring sailor boy seems to think it’s all fun and games -- with a cigarette scented breath of a sigh, the captain brings a paw up to his face and pinches the bridge of his snout. “Venus. You’re an enthusiastic rabbit, but being out on those waters is not a competition to see who wins an imaginary crown and it for sure isn’t a game in the first place.” He drops his paw to see Venus had yet again, changed in mood -- this time he was sad and not disappointed. The pang of guilt quickly hit the taller of the two.

“I’m not scolding you, sport. I’m not your parent, nor am I your college teacher or older siblings to do _that_ and even if I was any of those individuals in your life, I wouldn’t anyways. I’m just saying; while your enthusiasm is commendable, you gotta look further beyond _just_ said enthusiasm. The world beyond solid land into the depths of the saltwaters is no jest or environment to trudge around like a field trip.”  
  
For someone he’s known for like twenty minutes, Venus is unusually quiet. The Captain keeps on anyways.  
  
“You gotta consider not only your safety but others as well. There have been many countless lives lost at sea, with almost always a sea monster to blame for the wreckages of vessels and the death of people since the start of time. If you want to _really_ become a sailor well, I can’t stop you. I’m no one to do so, but if you want my advice? You have to wait until you know what you’re getting yourself into the second you set sail or at least find a mentor to help you along.”  
  
The rabbit keeps really quiet for a total of ten whole seconds this time. Captain Slug’s ears perk forward, picking on the low and tiny hum before it grows into the more audible, thoughtful hum.  
  
“Are you trying to make Hummingbird noises? Because that’s not--”  
  
_“I GOT IT.”_  
  
“Oh no.”

“You can be my mentor! You’re the only captain in Eastduff Reef.”  
  
“I have the vaguest, sneakiest suspicion this was your plan all along and I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or impressed.”  
  
“Whichever means I can join you on your travels?”  
  
“The answer’s no.”  
  


Venus makes a weird type of frustrated, but pleading, noise. _“Pleeeeease?_ I would be of great help, Captain! I have a major in the physics field for mechanics, I could help if the boat acted up! I could help keep the boat clean, help buy food and other supplies even!”

“The answer’s still no, kid. And besides, I can take care of that myself. What do you take me for, a newbie? I know how to fix a boat engine.” The fuss was starting to pick up some onlookers, so Captain Slug began to walk away. With Venus tailing him, of course.  
  
“ _Hey--_ Of course not, Captain!” The rabbit huffs, trying to keep up with the long legged-walk of the other. “Captain! At least take this into consideration; what if you were in a pickle, under attack by a big great beast and the engine of the boat was damaged--”  
  
“I’d manage.”

_“And_ you’re hurt? How can you fight a monster and fix damages at the same time, with another hypothetical idea that you’re hurt?”  
  
“I’ll admit that you have a point.” However, the Captain was not only cursed to be a beast, but also near impossible to kill. He could breathe underwater, maul both terrestrial and marine life, so he had no need for help. Yet, Venus just wouldn’t let up.  
  
“You can’t man a ship all on your own! I mean, you’ve been doing it for years but sooner or later you’ll need more hands on deck. Not just your own. You’ve been alone long enough, too.”

He decides to pretend he didn’t hear that last part because this sport’s gonna drive him _insane._ “This is extortion, but you know what? Fine.” Captain Slug figured Venus would change his mind after a day or two out at sea anyways. “If it’ll stop you from getting yourself killed in the future from rushing headfirst into a sailor’s life? Sure.”  
  
_Oh, what a fool he was to think that even after dealing with this first meeting._ The rabbit clearly had come prepared for this seeing the damn luggage bag again, as he cheered and hooted and hugged a very miffed Captain.

An hour or so later as they were preparing to set off wherever the waters took them, Captain Slug swore he saw The Pale Beast in the distance -- staring, unmoving, curious -- but when he blinked and rubbed his eyes, all he saw in her place was a lopsided palm tree hanging out from a small rocky hill sticking from what happens to be shallow waters, a place where no monsters of her size could ever hope to get to without getting stuck.

  
  


___________________________________________

  
  


In the present, It appears Slug had been in and out of consciousness throughout that entire ordeal of flashbacks; As it becomes obvious from the startled jolt that made him keep himself upright against his comfortable seat, but dizzy from the blood that rushes back into his head.

He’s sure that his restless fit did not help but he’s thankful that his nauseous after recollection of these memories had been replaced with a headache, as horrible as it feels. It also appears that the two distinct and familiar voices outside his room are what finally did it, what managed to keep him from an alcohol-induced coma.  
  
They weren’t really being quiet either, so there’s that-- and they were rattling the doorknob _and_ then he picked on sounds of attempted lock picking. _Not fucking again, Bandit._ Captain Slug didn’t feel like he was drunk anymore, but his walking was wobbly and his vision was still adjusting but nevertheless -- The short rabbit and lanky raccoon outside his door did not hear him or expected the door to be swung open which comically ended in Bandit falling through and into the room, to which Slug just stepped off to the side and watched the man plant his face against a carpeted floor, at least.  
  
“I’d say _'so w_ _e’ve met again'_ if it didn’t so happen that we live on the same boat, Bandit, and that I made it clear to not _pick_ any doors open.” He’s not actually mad.  
  
“I promise you, sir, I told him not to try it.” Venus is trying so very hard to not bust into giggles at Bandit’s predicament. The raccoon was always so sly and smooth, that when he rarely slipped like this, it was pretty silly for the rabbit. 

  
“You laugh now,” Bandit begins, interrupted by a short groan when he’s helped to his feet by the other two. “--just wait until you suffer an embarrassment yourself and the captain sasses you, gigglesworth.”

“Oh, come on.” Smiling, he rolls his eyes. “You would’ve laughed if it was the other way around! Here,” Venus fishes an ice cube out of whatever juice he’d been drinking and offers forward to the thief, “If it helps soothe the pain a bit.”  
  
“Yeah. True. Thank you, by the way.”  
  
The entire exchange Captain Slug watched with the same blank look on his face that Bandit and Venus know very well. Up until Bandit had the ice cube pressed against his nose, he finally interjected. “Now that you two are done bickering, may I please know why was my door being picked? Bandit, you know I’ve especially had these locks commissioned to near impossible to open by being picked, unless it's picked _by a key._ ”

  
“You’re a thief’s greatest enemy in the best way possible, I could kiss you, you infuriating genius.” To eavesdroppers, this might have sounded like a random thief was mocking a captain for protecting his boat from pillagers -- but in reality, this was Bandit’s way of showing a very peculiar like to the oblivious hyena. “But I digress -- maybe if you gave either of us a copy of the key to your quarters, maybe we wouldn’t have to weigh our options on whether I should try anyways, Cap.”

Slug scoffs. “I’m not gonna give either of you the keys to _my_ room.” As he pops his captain’s hat on, blue eyes fall back on the rabbit’s face, offering him an apologetic look. “No offense, Venus.”

“Oh, no, none taken!” Venus waves a paw, dismissive to something he didn’t see why he’d take offense to. “To continue Bandit’s thoughts, however-- We were aware that you needed some time to sit back, so we let you be after realizing you wanted to be alone for the time being but after two hours we couldn’t hear _anything_ from your room.”  
  
“We’ve docked, you see,” Bandit points to a nearby window, where Captain Slug turns his head and sees a misty boating dock with scattered people here and there -- a quiet, dejected _‘oh.’_ is all Slug managed. “We were ready to bust down your door or call for help after twelve or so minutes of knocking and calling your name. We couldn’t even hear you move to answer that antique dial-up phone you have. We might’ve thought you just.. dropped dead, as horrible as it was to come to that possible conclusion.”  
  
After a minute of thinking, frowning, actually nearly tearing up -- Captain Slug finds his voice again. “I see..” Fully, he steps out of the room and lets the door close on its own. “I’m sorry, you two. I think I drank more whiskey than I could handle and was in a pretty deep sleep.” Although Captain Slug wasn’t being a hundred percent upfront, he wasn’t really lying either. He wasn’t asleep, but he also was not really awake to the present world around him either to notice it’s been two hours, that they’ve been docked for some time now or that they were even calling his name -- he was still truly sorry, but Bandit and Venus were not the ones to get _mad_ at the beloved hyena they grown close to in such a relatively short span of time -- It’s been almost a year to be precise.

___________________________________________

When the trio disembarked The Uroboros, Captain Slug remembered this was the destination he’d been insistent on heading to after reading in one of his many books about this off-the-map island. He’s not sure what’s compelled him to even come here in the first place.  
  
The captain knew there was no cure for his beastly curse, -- believe him, he tried to seek for one -- so he opted for unlocking the mystery behind The Pale Beast. He had no idea what he hoped to discover in Bogland Islands, but as he and the peculiar raccoon and hyperactive rabbit he’s grown to consider family entered The Rusted Iron Inn -- he felt happiness, seeing their eagerness to be somewhere new and for Captain Slug himself, know they were safe from jaws and fins and claws of watery beasts; It felt like for once, he was at peace.  
  


  
  


Across the street from the comfortable inn, sat a quiet seafood restaurant (they offered more variety just in case, but that’s besides the point) that was thriving with business inside but seemed like a desolate establishment from the front where they’ve decorated a fenced-off area with currently-unused tables and chairs. Again, It looked desolate _aside_ from the two figures eating outside the restaurant on this misty, cold day.

They’ve been watching the trio of outsiders since they entered town. Don’t get them wrong, they’re not all like _‘outsiders, beware, lest we shall feed you to the gators’_ \-- nobody around here’s like that. The point is -- they were a curious batch, _especially_ the captain, the hyena.

The first to notice the hyena’s presence was the horse, with long curling locks of dirty blond hair that was up in a bun most of the time. This was Eugene -- a resident that just so happens to work at The Rusted Iron Inn as a housekeeper. He’d alerted his rat partner of the trio and discreetly watched them.

The rat, with relatively combed hair and fluffy eggshell fur was currently squinting, trying to get a better view to see all the way across the street where the Uroboros Trio was -- more specifically to try see more of this hyena character through a cold-fogged window now, but not only was there so little visibility due to the fog and that captain’s presence, but it was quite rude to stare, so he stopped, and turned to Eugene; puzzled just like was.  
  
“I don’t know about you, Rhett,” Begins the horse, pulling up his phone to search for something. “But that guy’s looking an awful lot like The Bog Doctor. Is it just me?”  
  


“It is definitely just not you, dear, or us in the first place.” Rhett scans the nearby area, where not all but some had taken notice of the hyena. “This one is _undeniably_ sporting strong resemblance to our good ‘ol doctor up in the bog swamps.”

The horse gruffs in agreement. “And never mind they’re not from ‘round here and we rarely get hyena visitors, -- I _f_ any visitors at all, damned sea-dwelling monsters -- and continue to be a rare sight even with our good ol’ doc. Do you think this captain’s searching for him, then?” Eugene said as he set his phone down in the middle of the table, a picture of him and Rhett posing with a wide-grinning hyena, wearing just a tattered hooded-cloak and the skull of some poor canine on his head.

Luckily, this is one of the few images in existence where The Bog Doctor had allowed people to snap a photo of him without actually wearing the skull on his face. The more the pair studied the picture, the more they saw every little detail to match the captain’s physical appearance.  
  
The most obvious thing was that they were both striped hyenas and appeared to be _almost_ the same height. The Bog Doctor had a lighter shade of The Captain’s fur, their hair were styled in a similar way -- though, the hyena of the bog had let it grown all the way to the middle of the back and had let turn into a mess of furry hair, unlike The Captain’s well-kept, shorter hair -- and their markings and stripes were almost in the same position.

Their faces gave it all away, though -- as both had the same eye shape and similar colors, noses, the form and shape _and_ width of chin, high cheekbones, and identical facial hair. The only difference is that The Captain had a bit of a longer snout, but not by a _whole_ lot.

The restaurant-goers take off their hypothetical detective’s hats and Rhett strokes his chin, Eugene hums curiously. The rat is the first to speak, “They _could_ be related and I think we should tell him about The Bog Doctor.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  
  
“Absolutely. I also opt to keep from showing him the photos of our doc, I feel like the raccoon’s on high alert about their safety, which is admirable and fair.”  
  
“I can agree with that.” Eugene locks his phone and stashes it back into his pockets. “What’re we gonna tell them, though? They’re gonna think we’re trying to get ‘em killed. Oh, God-- what if they _do_ get killed? Rhett--”  
  
“Hey, hey. Eugene, It’s gonna be okay. The gators will keep to themselves if they don’t get too close to ‘em, you know that, and if they’re not taunted. We’ll warn them about other local wildlife, too.” As Eugene’s worry deflates, Rhett pats his shoulder and continues. “I have to go back to work in an hour and you’re off for the rest of the day and I’m _definitely_ not missing that, so--”  
  
Continues Eugene for him. _“'We’ll wait until tomorrow_ ', yadda yadda. I’ve known you since we were kids, Rhett. I'll wait.”  
  
“Excellent!”  
  
“Plus, It don’t look like they’re gonna do much today but rest. The Captain looked like he had a migraine or somethin’.”  
  
“Who wouldn’t when you travel the sea?”  
  
“I guess that’s a fair point,” The horse shrugs. “Even for someone who’s been sea-travelling for longer than both of us has been alive.”  
  
“Mmmmhm. Anyways-- We’ll wait until tomorrow and tell ‘em. Deal?”  
  
“Deal.”  
  
“We can follow them too so they don’t get lost.”  
  
_“Rhett."_

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think you have any idea, how hard i can fixate on my stories and ocs, and i've had insomnia now boiiiiii
> 
> I have like almost a dozen stories I'm working on that are shorter than the three big main ones that are far longer. The Harbor of Monsters is not one of them and I've only written One Whole Pilot for The Big Main Three. help me


End file.
